A Matt Bentell Interlude
by Jellico
Summary: This is a WHIB (What Happened In Between) story during Season 1, Episode 13, "The Guilt of Matt Bentell." Under pressure to show Victoria, Jarrod and Nick "some of Tom's Barkley's guts," Heath storms off the ranch rather than spend another minute under the same roof as Bentell. Someone in the family has to bring him back, though, and so it's Big Brother Nick to the rescue.
1. Chapter 1

_"Show us what you inherited from your father! Show us some of Tom Barkley's guts!"_

Heath didn't linger long once that order came from his stepmother. Precisely three seconds after Victoria Barkley issued her challenge, Heath stalked from the library without a word to anyone and headed straight up to his bedroom.

In his wake, with the pounding on his dusty brown boots on the curved staircase echoing throughout the ground floor, Nick stood behind his mother and stared at the empty doorway for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jarrod frowning by the window. Neither spoke, but one look into Nick's hazel eyes told Jarrod precisely what his brother's next move was going to be. A heartbeat later Nick was also gone. Upstairs, he barged into Heath's room and slammed the door behind him, his aggravation rising several notches once he took in the scene before him.

_"And just where in the blazes do you think you're going?"_

Heath brushed past him on his way back to the bed, his jaw pulsing with every step. He dropped several pairs of socks and a handful of underwear onto his open bedroll.

"Away from here."

_"Which would be where exactly?"_

"Don't matter so long as I'm _not_ in the same house as Bentell. If I can't kill him, then gettin' the hell away from his stink will do me just fine."

Nick latched onto his brother's arm as Heath marched once more across the room.

"And what about us?"

Heath wrenched his arm free and continued on his way to the dresser. "What about you? Didn't none of you know me nine months ago, so I reckon you'll do just fine without me again."

"And you?" Nick raised a clenched fist and shook it. "Didn't you fight and claw and practically shoot your way into this house to become a part of us? You just gonna walk on outta here and forget you have brothers and a sister and–"

"Yer damn right I am! That's _exactly_ what I'm gonna do. I don't need to be a Barkley when the price is this high, Nick. I don't need anything right now except to get the hell off this ranch!"

_**"And that's the biggest load of bullcrap and horsefeathers I ever heard!"**_ Abruptly aware of how loud his voice had become, even for him, Nick lowered it with effort. "Let me tell you something, boy. We're your family in case you forgot, or don't we count anymore since all you can think about is Bentell?"

Heath slammed the dresser drawer in front of him and turned an icy blue glare on his furious older brother.

"So I'm selfish, is that it? Well if I am, I'm not the only one. Seems you, Jarrod and Mother care more about makin' money off that son-of-a-bitch than how I feel."

"That's not true and you know it, Heath!"

"Like hell it isn't!"

"And I'm telling you like hell it is! _Give_ _me that!_" Nick tore from his brother's grasp the work outfits Heath was now carrying and tossed them across the room, then watched in mounting frustration when Heath simply shot him a look, stomped to where his clothes had landed and silently scooped them up.

Nick forced himself to take a number of deep breaths before he gave into temptation and strangled his pigheaded sibling. "All right," he finally grumbled. "Since I can see there's no talkin' to you right now, maybe it _is_ better if you move into town for a night or two until you can simmer down."

"You think I'm goin' into Stockton?" Heath snorted his disgust as he slapped his cambric work shirts into the middle of the bedroll then topped them off with two pairs of tan pants. "Oh no. I'm goin' a lot farther than that, Big Brother."

Nick planted his fists on his hips. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean? Just how far do you plan on runnin'?"

"I'm not runnin' anywhere," Heath retorted. "I'm just gonna find me someplace to settle where no murderin' jackal from my past is likely to be. I hear they got good work and clean air up in Montana territory, but then again maybe I'll just head on down to South America. I've always had a hankerin' to visit Peru, and I can speak Spanish a lot better than I can stomach Bentell."

"Is that so?" Nick sneered. He sauntered to the bed and raked his sibling up and down with his eyes. "Well, well, well. So much for showing us Father's guts, eh?"

Heath refused to be baited while he folded his bedroll then tied it tight with a few angry twists. "I don't have to prove myself to you, Nick. I shouldn't have to prove myself to you or anyone else in this family anymore. I've been here almost a full year. If none of you know me by now, then you can all just go to the devil."

Nick took another step forward, crowding him. "And _you_ had better watch your mouth, boy."

"I'm not watchin' anything," Heath shot back. He tossed his saddlebags over his right shoulder, snatched up his bedroll, then turned towards the door.

Immediately, Nick moved to block his path and then hampered his brother again when Heath tried to move around him. Nick's jaw was tight, reminiscent of their first meal together as a family before Peacemaker Jarrod had cut their breakfast steak in two. He wasn't going to give an inch from the stolid, unblinking expression on his face, but Heath didn't rightly care. He wasn't backing down either, and he narrowed his eyes to prove it, raising his chin defiantly.

"Get out of my way, Nicholas. I ain't tellin' you twice."

Nick said nothing, didn't even shake his head.

_So be it_, Heath thought. He charged ahead anyway then stumbled back when Nick shoved him full in the chest, which was about all the invitation Heath needed given the way he was feeling. He dropped his belongings and left fly with his fists.

Further down the hall and seated at her vanity table, Audra dropped her hairbrush in fright as an earthquake seemed to shake the house. She tightened her bathrobe around her waist then fairly flew to the source of the ruckus, shocked then dismayed then alarmed at the vicious brawl that was taking place between her favorite brothers. In the library, Jarrod and Victoria had also stopped talking and were hastening one behind the other towards the vestibule. To Victoria, it sounded almost like a series of thunderclaps were exploding upstairs, but Jarrod was pretty sure it was only furniture that kept toppling … and if he was right, he knew exactly whose sanctuary was now in shambles.

He wasn't wrong.

In the bedroom of the newest Barkley brother, the bed was off-center, both chairs were overturned and one of the nightstands lay pitched on its side with two broken legs. As Nick reeled from yet another punch, tripped over the wash stand, then fell ass over applecart into a corner by the wall, Heath took advantage. Finally heeding Audra's cries to stop it, he wiped his bloody lip, staggered to his bedroll and saddlebags, snatched them up, then raced past her out the door.

Behind him, Nick struggled to regain his footing.

_**"GET BACK HERE, BOY! WE'RE NOT FINISHED!"**_

Heath didn't slow his pace in the least. Despite the eighteen steps in the curving front staircase of the Barkley mansion, he barely touched five on his way down. He took them three at a time to the ground floor then skirted Victoria completely as she swished to his side to prevent his departure.

"Heath, please! Don't lea—"

Before Victoria could stop him, he was past her and gone. Jarrod grimly took a step after Heath, all set to follow, but Nick overtook them both within seconds as Audra was left behind upstairs, confused and weeping.

_"Stay here. I'm going after him."_

Neither Jarrod nor Victoria got a chance to reply. There one minute and gone the next, Nick didn't feel any of the bumps and bruises that were rapidly forming on his lean frame. He sprinted from the house and straight over to the barn, his smoldering gaze fixating immediately on his younger brother, who pointedly ignored him and continued saddling his old Modoc pony. The Modoc was not the horse Heath rode much anymore since the family had presented him with Charger months before, so the significance behind that choice now was certainly not lost on Nick. Feeling his considerable temper rise yet another notch, Nick glanced at the ranch hands lingering nearby then jerked a thumb toward the entrance.

"You men, get out." The moment George and Ciego shared a look but wisely chose to walk outside without a word, Nick approached his sibling. "And as for you, Heath Morgan Barkley, you listen to me and you listen good. If you think I'm gonna let you—"

But that was as far as Nick got. Lying flat on the barn floor and coming to with George Carter looming over him and Ciego overshadowing them both, Nick furrowed his brows as he realized what must have happened. He rose up on one elbow then lifted a hand towards his face to work the stiffness from his tender jaw.

"Where … Where'd my brother go?"

A wide-eyed Ciego pointed a chubby arm to the left in case his employer was too concussed to remember the cardinal directions. "Este, Señor Nick. He ride east, but you okay? Señor Heath, he punch you real hard. He—"

"Yeah, yeah, he's got the Barkley temper. I know that, Ciego, I know! Now how long have I been out?"

"A long time, Señor Nick. Mucho tiempo. I tell you I was just about to fetch your mamá and Señor Jar—"

_"I said how long, damn you!"_

George fielded this one with a sorry shake of his head. "About eight minutes, give or take."

"Blast it!" Nick waved them back then pushed himself to his feet. "Get me a bedroll and saddle my hor—"

"Already done," George said. "My saddlebags are there too just in case. There ain't much in there, but it's got jerky, matches and an extra shirt. I figured you'd want 'em soon as you came to."

A quick glance out into the yard told Nick this was true, so he clapped the aging hand on the back then hurried out to Coco. As he mounted up and kicked Coco into gear, he called over his shoulder. "Tell Jarrod and my mother we'll be back by supper!"


	2. Chapter 2 - The Search

In the shade of a California scrub oak with the sun bearing down hard on everything within sight, Nick's mouth set in a grim line. Through a gap in the leaves, he squinted at the sky for a moment but then scowled at the rocks in Pine Lake while he re-filled his canteen upstream from where Coco was drinking. _So much for getting back in time for supper,_ he thought with angry disgust. _It's been more than four hours already. At this rate, I'll be lucky if I even spot that ornery brother of mine before dawn!_

Where the devil Heath could have disappeared to so well, so quickly, and with less than a ten-minute head start was a mystery almost too frustrating to solve. Nick was positive his half-brother must be part Shoshone on his mother's side because only a man with a relentless, intractable, and downright sneaky bloodline could escape detection this fast and for this long when Nicholas J. Barkley was on his trail. And if Heath _wasn't_ part Shoshone, well then he damn well must have lived and learned with them for years before he ever came to Stockton; Nick was willing to bet on that!

Was it time to call it quits?

Maybe for someone else, but Nick himself refused to entertain the notion. Among other things, he had a roundhouse punch to deliver to Heath's jaw that just might match the discolored bruise long since formed on Nick's own face. And after he'd delivered that, a good, swift kick to Heath's backside was definitely in order for making them both ride this long on horseback when they'd already ridden fence half the damn morning. At least fifteen separate blisters were forming on his behind, Nick was sure, more than three for every hour he'd spent bouncing in the saddle, his hazel eyes peeled for any trace at all of one stiff-necked, stubborn younger brother.

Still, giving up the search was not an option, no sirree. Nick Barkley wasn't some city-slickered tenderfoot newly arrived from Boston or New York City. He was a California rancher born and bred and he could put up with a lot more than a few simple calluses on his hide, especially if the end-result was worth it. And it would be, Nick vowed to himself as he capped his canteen then mounted up with impatience. It was going to be more than worth it once he found that brother of his then throttled his hard-nosed, unbending little neck.

On the trail once again heading east, Nick travelled another three miles before he suddenly stopped scanning the ground and truly took stock of his surroundings. He was coming up on yet another lush meadow where snakes could easily hide to startle an unsuspecting horse, but that wasn't what bothered him. It was the landscape. Beyond this meadow were more mountain ranges within which the passes would be steep, and that would be difficult enough terrain for a well-conditioned animal like Coco, never mind a Modoc pony that hadn't been ridden hard in over two months.

Heath wouldn't come this way.

Setting aside his aggravation for a moment, Nick thought further and realized either his brother was more crafty than he'd given him credit for, or Nick himself hadn't been thinking straight when he'd galloped off the ranch in pursuit. Regardless of what Ciego said he saw, Heath wouldn't have ridden east for long with two ranch-hands standing around, waiting to see which direction he took. He would have ridden east only long enough to slip out of sight and then he would have changed direction onto a road equally well-travelled to throw Nick off his scent. North and south were both distinct possibilities at this point, but Nick didn't try to guess. He forced himself to close his eyes, take a deep breath then still his mind, and when he opened them both a minute later, he didn't hesitate. He turned Coco's head, nudged the horse into a canter and rode south.

Two hours later he was rewarded.

Up ahead, a slow-moving caravan of gypsies was travelling out of season, their garishly decorated wagons spread out and hogging the road for a full quarter-mile. Whether they had just pulled up stakes or were on the verge of settling down in some nearby field, Nick didn't know and it didn't matter. Money is money to a gypsy, and from experience, Nick knew they would be more than willing to talk to him for a few silver dollars. He bit back his annoyance at having to deal with these people and spurred Coco to catch up to the head wagon, focused on the only thing he needed from them: information. Face to face within a minute with the leader of the pack, a man more than old enough to be Nick's grandfather, no pleasantries were exchanged. The second money changed hands, Nick began to grill.

"You people see a lone man riding a dark horse in this direction?"

Bapo narrowed his rheumy eyes. "Why? He bad man to you? He kill one of you white friends?"

"Just answer the question."

"We see ... I tink ... tree men today."

Nick jerked a thumb toward Coco's hide. "Did any of them have a brand on their horse like this?"

"Maybe ... but ... maybe not. Each man ride fast ... maybe too fast to see horse rumps."

"Well, what kind of clothes were they wearing, old man? Was one of them blond?"

Bapo's relatives began to object to Nick's pressured and disrespectful tone, but the old man in question waved them off. More than able to take care of this gadjo, he narrowed his eyes and studied their visitor silently, noting the fine clothes Nick wore in addition to his expensive horse and gun. Finally, he shrugged. "We ... We don't remember what we see."

His nostrils flaring, Nick dug a few fingers into his vest pocket, extracted a half eagle, then reached out and slapped the 5$ gold coin into the man's waiting palm. "So do you remember now?" he demanded. "What the hell were these men wearing?!"

"Only one blond man go by and he wear ... he wear blue shirt."

"And? What else?"

"Brown ... yes ... brown vest."

"And what about his pants?"

"Dey ... I tink dey like ah-monds. You ever eat?"

_"How long ago did he pass you?"_

Bapo shook a fat finger at Nick. "Hurry, hurry. It not good you hurry too much. You get down off horse now and see my Angelina. She read you palm for only two dollar more and tell you where to find dis man."

_**"How long?"**_

Nick practically threw another dollar at him, but Bapo merely sighed and cocked his head to the east while he scratched his sweaty neck. To an increasingly frustrated Nick, a veritable age seemed to pass before the wizened old gypsy decided to cut his losses and answer him.

"Two hours, I tink ... maybe less ... maybe more."

Nick took off. If Heath was only a couple of hours ahead of him _and_ keeping to this road _and_ hopefully stopping more often than his older brother was to rest his pony, Nick could reach him before dusk – reach him and then give him the most well-earned hiding of his life!

More anxious than ever now to catch up to Heath so he could give him a piece of his mind, Nick nonetheless slowed Coco to a canter then slowed him again to a trot. Trotting wasn't helping his blistered backside any, but at least it was a steady gait his horse could maintain for a good ten to twelve miles instead of blowing hard after less than two. And if Heath was only walking his horse at this point while Nick kept his own to a trot, so much the better.

Every minute that he rode, though, Nick's eyes were in constant motion. He wanted Heath to keep to the road, but he wasn't counting on it, so he scanned the tree lines to the east and west and looked back often as well in case he missed a sign along the way. It would be just like Heath to change direction again just to shake things up a bit, and he would surely do it in a heartbeat if he sensed Nick closing in. And so Nick rode on, using his anger to bury his fatigue.

About an hour before sunset, a weary Coco stopped plodding along and sniffed the air to the southwest, his neck extended while his ears pricked forward. Nick had been stretching in the saddle, his mind drifting to where they should make camp for the night, but instantly, he was back on high alert.

"What is it, boy? Who's out there? Is it Heath?"

Coco snorted softly then headed for a thicket that was more than tall enough to hide both a man and a horse fifteen hands high. In the center, a trail extended fifty yards then rounded a corner of which nothing could be seen, so Nick gave Coco loose rein, but kept his right hand near his gun as a precaution.

He needn't have bothered.

Around that corner and twenty yards further in lay a small stream banked by Quaker's lady and bluegrass wildflowers – and there, too, plain as day, stood Heath's black Modoc. While his pony munched contentedly on some leaves, Heath himself stood calf-deep in the cold water with his pant legs rolled up and his hands below the surface, waiting patiently to catch a trout for supper. Now Nick really wanted to kick him, but long before he could make his move, Heath spotted him, and right away, the expressive blue eyes turned hard as their owner straightened up.

_"How'd you find me?"_

Masking well his relief, Nick wasn't about to admit it was mostly blind luck. He glared down at Heath instead, nodding once toward Coco's stablemate.

"It's about time you stopped for a rest and let me catch up. You keep riding that pony of yours the way you are and he's not gonna be fit to—"

_"Don't lecture me, Nicholas, or I'll knock you flat like I did this mornin'."_

Nick cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

_"I've done it before."_

"Once, boy. And it's not happening again, I guarantee you."

_"Wanna bet?" _

Tired and sore as he was, and also knowing full well how Heath was likely to react, Nick still couldn't help it. A slow and delibrate grin began to build. "Oh, I bet."

Without another word, Heath marched out of the stream and straight over to his boots. His feet were both wet and sandy, but if that bothered him at all while he forced them inside, he showed no sign. Now ready for battle, he set his pulsing jaw and glowered up at the older brother before him, truly not caring one whit for the stamp of amusement on Nick's smug face.

_"Get down off that horse."_

Casually, Nick stepped down and looped Coco's reins around the closest tree branch. His dimples were deep as he rolled up his sleeves and faced Heath with a smile even wider than before.

"I think I'm gonna enjoy this, Little Brother. I've been waitin' to do this _all_ day."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Talk

Heath didn't reply, at least not with his lips. He charged forward and tackled Nick to the ground, who promptly used his height and pent-up anger to flip their positions so Heath was the one pinned on his back. The younger of the two wasn't about to take this reversal lying down, though, and he clocked Nick in the jaw then bucked hard until their bodies began to roll while they traded punches, one tumbling over the other until they were both bathing knee-deep in the cold creek. Rocks of all shapes and sizes began digging into their bones and muscles, but that didn't stop either sibling from trying to trounce the other. A lucky uppercut gave Heath a temporary advantage, which he used to climb on top of his meddling older brother and push his head under water, but just like during their Fourth of July championship wrestling match in town, Nick surprised him with a surge of energy that quickly negated that advantage. Within seconds Heath was the one under water with his hands tearing in vain at Nick's vest and shirt, but Big Brother didn't let up. He sat on Heath and kept him right where he was until the cowboy began to choke, and only then did Nick yank his head above the surface so he could take in oxygen.

_**"Had enough?"**_

Heath couldn't answer. He coughed and gagged while Nick stayed right there in the creek with him and walloped him none too gently on the back, ordering him to breathe like Heath wasn't already trying to. When the hacking finally stopped, Nick mussed his wet hair then stood up and waded to shore.

"You just sit there while I get a fire goin', y'hear? This freezing water is just what you need to cool off the rest of the way."

Nick didn't really expect Heath to stay, and of course, he didn't. He staggered from the stream, wove his way to a bed of moss, and then collapsed on top of it while he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. More than one black look escaped each time he make eye contact with Nick, but Big Brother wasn't the least bit bothered by it.

He gathered dry bark and small twigs, piled them close to where Heath was sitting, and then lit them with the extra matches George had stored in his saddlebags, feeding the fire with several small branches before he went over to Coco and unsaddled him. Neither his horse blanket nor Heath's was large enough to fully cover a grown man, but they were all Nick had aside from the bedrolls so they would just have to do. As the temperature around them dropped, Nick ordered Heath to remove his sopping shirt and boots, and then he towered over him until the younger man did it. The moment Heath was bare-chested, Nick draped the slightly larger of the two blankets over his shoulders while he kept the smaller one for himself. He propped both their wet boots close to the fire to dry and then settled himself beside Heath with a noisy sigh.

"You hungry?"

Nick reached into his saddlebags for two sticks of jerky and offered one to Heath, but the latter refused to take it. Instead, Heath shifted to put some distance between them then stared hard at the burning wood, his resentment of his brother, and by extension their whole family, almost palpable in the firelight. Nick could have let an uncomfortable silence grow between them – and some other time he might have – but after all he'd suffered more than half the day just to locate his sibling, well, that simply wasn't an option. He half-wrestled, half-tore a leathery strip of beef with his teeth then talked around it while he chewed.

"I figure ... I figure we can dry out then head home around ten or eleven tonight, give the horses – and us – a chance to rest first. That way we'll be home before dawn, and Mother 'n Jarrod 'n Audra can stop worryin'."

Now Heath looked at him, his steely gaze was unwavering.

"No."

"Damn it, Heath! Will you quit fightin' the bit?!"

"I'm not goin' back to the ranch, I tell you. It's not my home anymore."

"What d'you mean it's not your home? Of course, it's your home!"

"It isn't!" Heath retorted. "Not if you and Jarrod and Mother won't stand behind me on something as important as this!"

_"We __**do**__ stand behind you!_" Nick spat the jerky from his mouth and clenched his fist tight around the leftover piece in his hand._ "But you're walking around stuffed fatter than a Thanksgiving turkey with hate and it's not healthy!"_

Heath threw off his blanket and stood up, his footprints marking a deep, six-point trail in the rocky sand as he paced from one side of his brother to the other. His handsome face was unlike Nick had ever seen it before. It was dark and almost ugly, practically twisted with rage and hostility.

_"You wanna talk healthy, Nick? I was only fourteen when I got dumped in Carterson! Fourteen! I was just a dumb, idealistic kid, and do you know how Bentell treated me? Like I was a full grown man, an enemy to be tortured and broken every single day I was there. For God's sake, he made me drink my own piss and wash in my own waste, Nick! He starved me and beat me same as every other inmate twice my age, and he didn't care at all that he was slowly killing a kid!"_ When Nick said nothing, only looked at him with a warring combination of shock, disgust and pity, Heath worked his jaw a moment as he struggled to calm himself. Finally, he continued. "I weighed over a hundred pounds at the start, Big Brother. Care to guess how much I weighed when I was released?"

Nick opened his mouth then shut it. He shook his head.

"Less than eighty. A fourteen-year-old boy." The cowboy's shoulders seemed to slump then, his gaze tortured as he studied the older brother he never once thought would betray him. "How can you do this to me, Nick?"

Immediately, Nick stood up and closed the gap between them. "Now wait a minute, Heath—"

Heath stepped back. "How can you care more about Bentell and the money he can make for a bunch of Barkley timber stands than you do about me?"

Nick grasped his arm and held on. "I don't," he insisted, "but I have hated before just as hot as you do right now, and I have lived to regret the decisions I made when I couldn't think straight and I wouldn't listen to reason." When Heath merely shook his head and tried to turn away, Nick tightened his grip and forced him back_. "Are you hearing me, boy? I've been where you are now and made one of the worst choices a man can make!"_

"What choice, Nick? What could you possibly—"

"How about the choice to leave home for months on end so I could gun a man dow—"

As Nick suddenly cut himself off and turned away, Heath told himself not to ask, but the question slipped out before he could hold his tongue.

"Who?"

For far longer than was normal for him, Nick didn't answer. He couldn't. He tossed his jerky into the sand then walked to the creek and stood there until the sun finished setting, his posture unnaturally erect while the wood chips crackled behind him. Crickets chirped, an army of frogs croaked to one another, and a few yards away, a mother raccoon with her three kits could be heard foraging along the shoreline, but still, the older Barkley didn't speak.

Eventually, Heath gathered his discarded blanket from the sand then went over to his brother and stood beside him.

"Who was it, Nick? Tell me."

Nick didn't look his way. "One of Father's killers," he said at last. "I never got my mitts on the snake who actually shot him – a man named Random got that honor – but I got one of his ... his _partners_ ... about a year later. You better believe I did."

"What happened?"

"Our father died is what happened, Heath, and I couldn't think about anything but cold, calculated revenge." Nick clenched his fists around his own blanket, the veins in his neck beginning to pulse. After another minute, he turned to look at his younger brother. "Mother, Audra, Eugene ... even Jarrod … they hated what happened to Father, but avenging his death wasn't consuming their every waking thought like it was mine. The ranch was my responsibility now – that and helping Mother and Jarrod to raise Audra and Eugene the rest of the way – but I couldn't see any of that … and one day I just left. I didn't say goodbye, I didn't leave a note, and I didn't even know where I was going except after the men who killed Father."

Heath didn't care for the pointed look Nick was giving him, so he prodded him back to the story. "And you found them."

"I found one … Bert Swenson." Nick frowned then returned his gaze to the water. "As it turns out, he was more than enough."

"How long?"

"To find him?" Nick's chest felt tight as he focused on a tree in the distance. "It took ten months, eleven days and thirteen hours. I tracked him to a town in New Mexico territory and scouted the place all morning 'til I learned he was living with his sister about a mile out of Socorro. Soon as I discovered that, I was gonna ride over there, but I never even had to. He was right there in town that day, buying pipe tobacco in the mercantile."

"You called him out?"

"Yeah ... I called him out."

Heath thought of Bentell and curled his lip in disgust, thinking of how often that murdering jackal had hid behind his rank in the army. "Did Swenson come when you called, or didja have to drag him out into the street?"

Nick shook his head. "He came all right, and he pulled his iron quicker'n hell could scorch a feather, but I was faster. I let the sun shine through him like a pane of glass." A smile of pure, unmitigated satisfaction crossed Nick's face at the memory, but it was fleeting. Before even Heath could fully register it, Nick turned to his younger brother and pinned him hard with a look. "His family saw it, Heath, all of them: his sister, their grandmother and two little kids, who couldn't have been more than five or six at the time. I shot him dead straight in front of them."

If Nick expected Heath to be shamed, he was wrong. As soon as he finished speaking, Heath simply raised his chin. "I'm glad you did it. Proud too."

"You shouldn't be," Nick threw back angrily. "If you've been listening at all—"

"You get in trouble with the law?"

Nick flushed, unable to forget the no end of trouble he'd caused for a time. "Some … but it wasn't anything Jarrod couldn't handle once I wired him and he came running. Now, Heath—"

"What'd Mother say?"

"A lot. And she said it most of it in the barn the same night Jarrod and I got ho—"

Heath snorted his disbelief. "What, you tryin' to tell me she gave you a wallopin' good spankin' for running off? At your age?"

"No, but if I'd been even five years younger I'm sure she would have." When Heath still looked skeptical, Nick cuffed him in frustration. "Look, I disappointed her and you know Mother by now. Is it really so hard to believe? What I'd done, it was the worst thing I'd ever done up to that point and it still is, to be honest."

"Not in my book."

As Heath began to walk away, Nick latched onto him and turned him back. "You're wrong. You may not have known Father, Heath, but you definitely know Mother, and _our_ parents didn't raise me to stalk a man down then kill him, didn't matter what he'd done. They especially didn't raise me to abandon my family." Nick lowered his voice a bit but didn't loosen his grip. "I never knew Leah, but I'm willing to bet she didn't raise you that way either."

Heath's eyes grew cold again as he twisted free and backed away. "Don't talk to me about my momma, Nick. You don't hardly know the first thing about her except that she—"

_"Then tell me about her!"_ For every angry step that Heath now took, Nick followed. _"Would she approve of you running away from us?"_

"She wouldn't order me to eat with Bentell! She wouldn't try to make me spend—"

_**"Answer the question! Would she approve?"**_

As Nick practically ran him down, Heath lashed out and swung his fist. The sudden blow drove the taller man to his knees, but he didn't try to retaliate as Heath towered over him, breathing hard.

_"Maybe my momma wouldn't approve of me runnin' out on family, Nick, but just like you, I can live with a mother's disappointment."_

"Heath—"

"I am _not_ going back to Stockton, Nicholas. Not for you, not for my momma's memory, not for no one. And I don't care how many stories you tell me."

Nick rubbed the fresh bruise on his jaw as he pushed to his feet. "It wasn't just a story, Heath. It was the truth. Sometimes I'm glad I killed Swenson but mostly … right now … I wish I had given Mother a chance to give me the advice she gave you this afternoon. I wish I had tried to live with him, eat with him, forgive him."

"Well, I'm not you, am I?"

As Heath tightened the blanket around his shoulders then stalked back to their fire, Nick stood where he was and stared after him. After a moment, he followed behind with a sorry shake of his head.

"Heath ... I swear you've got a stubborn streak in you a mile wide."

"Reckon you should know."

"Maybe … but in your shoes I'd rather herd sheep before I'd let Bentell win."

Heath sat down hard on his old bed of moss. "I'm not lettin' him do anything."

"The devil you're not." Nick plopped down beside him, feeling every one of his thirty years as he reached for his canteen. "The first time there wasn't a damn thing you could do to escape the nightmare he created, Heath, but this time you got no excuse. Bentell has no power over you unless you give it to him, and you taking off the way you did today, us being out here, well, I'd say you've just about given him an engraved invitation to cloud the rest of your life."

Once again Heath shifted to the right away from Nick, his jaw muscles tight enough to pop a spring. "You don't understand, do you?"

"Like hell I don't."

"Just ... Just go home, Nick. Go home and leave me alone. This isn't your fight."

The brother in question took a swig of warm water then held his canteen out to share. "But that's where you're wrong, see. Your fight is my fight, just like at Semple's farm or when that rabid wolf bit me or—"

Heath pushed his arm away. "Those times were different."

"Differences be hanged." Nick took another swig then capped the canteen. "Look, Heath, it took us over twenty-four years to find each other. If you honestly think I'm gonna return to the ranch without you just so I can wonder day after day what happened to my brother, well, you're an even bigger fool than I was at your age."

"I'll write."

"Not good enough."

"You won't be without brothers, y'know. You've got Jarrod 'n Gene–"

"Still not good enough."

"You didn't even know me last year! If I hadn't shown up and staked a claim—"

"But you did show up and I don't regret it." All at once, Nick stiffened, his full attention on the young man beside him. "Then again, do you? Are you tryin' to tell me you wish we weren't brothers?"

Heath said nothing at first, his blue eyes hooded while he stared into the fire. He wanted to say yes, if only to encourage Nick to leave him the hell alone to brood in peace, but he couldn't lie like that. He couldn't be that cruel. He worked his jaw a moment then glanced over at the most persistent sibling he'd ever known. "No, I could never say that … or wish it either."

The growing tightness in Nick's chest lost its grip. "Good," he said. He clapped Heath on the back then got to his feet. "Now that that's settled, I say we could both use some sleep. Prop up this fire, will you? I gotta go answer nature's call. I'll be back in a minute."

But it wasn't a minute. Or even two. Thanks to the year-old jerky he'd been munching on the trail all afternoon, it was almost fifteen minutes by the time Nick stepped out of the shadows, and during that gap, Heath had been busy. A fresh shirt was on his back, his damp boots were on his feet, and his Modoc pony was fully saddled. Nick ran towards him as he mounted up in one fluid motion.

"Heath!"

"I can't do it, Nick. I can't go back with you."

"Wait a minute! You can't leave now! It's—"

"I'm sorry, Nick. I gotta go. G'bye."

As Nick finally caught up, he lunged for the horse's bridle to hold him in place before his brother could turn his neck, but he was too slow.

"Heath, get back here so we can finish this! _HEATH!_"

Bumped to the side and left behind as horse hooves pounded the earth, dusting him with dirt and sand, Nick swore forcefully but then saved his breath to cool his broth. Seething, he shoved his gritty bare feet into his own wet boots, snatched up his saddlebags and other belongings then ran to Coco and got him saddled quickly. The fire on the beach was low and unlikely to spread, but Nick had been taught too well to consider abandoning it in his haste. He turned back to it now and snuffed the remaining embers fast but well, then mounted up and let out a shout. His poor horse clearly did not appreciate the harsh pull on its mouth, but at that precise moment, Nick was too preoccupied to notice. He kicked the animal into high gear and leaned forward into the saddle until they were past the thicket and back on the main road heading south, his hard gaze intent on the speck way up ahead that was fast disappearing in the gloom.

Thank God for the full moon above.

Nick was going to need every second of its light to catch his pig-headed brother in the dark, and this time when he caught up with him, boy, was he going to have some real choice words to say!


	4. Chapter 4 - The Supper

Audra's blue eyes noted the tasty supper gracing the table – the grilled fish with bay leaves, the creamy mashed potatoes with turnips, and the cool beet salad with just a hint of maple syrup – but none of it whet her appetite. For each dish before her all she counted were the days of the week which had passed since Heath had bolted from the mansion with Nick in pursuit. Lunch time had only been an hour away when her brothers had charged out the front door on Saturday, and by tomorrow that would be four long days ago. What had they eaten after they'd gone? What were they eating now? Stale beef jerky? Raw chickweed? Unseasoned rabbit? Were they camped by a lake where they could get fresh fish, or were they in some town miles away enjoying a half-decent meal in a hotel restaurant?

_Most importantly, why weren't they back yet and when were they coming home?_

Too upset to enjoy her dinner as she agonized internally over these questions, Audra frowned at her untouched plate as she pushed it away.

"I hate waiting like this."

Jarrod glanced up from his end of the dining table. "So do I, honey, but I'm sure they'll be back any minute now."

"Will they, Jarrod? It's been three days already and Nick said—"

"Yes, well, Brother Nick tends to overestimate his powers of persuasion sometimes, doesn't he, Mother?"

"Indeed he does," Victoria said. She forced a smile she didn't truly feel as she swallowed a tiny bite of potato. "He also tends to underestimate the obstinacy of a certain member of this family who may just be the most stubborn Barkley of us all."

Jarrod chuckled his appreciation but only for a second. In an instant, Audra's blonde tresses had swiveled in his direction, her peaches-and-cream complexion an angry shade of pink.

_"I don't see how you can laugh, Jarrod."_

"Honey, I didn't laugh. I just—"

"You did too laugh and I don't find this situation the least bit amusing! How can you take this so lightly? Nick and Heath should be back by now!"

"They will be soon, Audra."

"You keep saying that, Jarrod, but what if Nick hasn't even found Heath yet? What if he's still trying to track him down?"

As Audra's voice began to rise hysterically, Victoria reached out to squeeze her hand. "Darling, it hasn't rained in weeks. I'm sure Nick found Heath the same day they set out."

"Well then what's taking them so long to ride back, Mother? _Why won't they come home?_"

"Heath was very upset when he left here. It may take time for Nick to persuade him to return."

"But Heath didn't even take Charger. He took his old Modoc pony. Doesn't that mean—"

"Honey, there's no need to worry," Jarrod broke in gently. "I promise you. I would wager those two brothers of ours are probably bickering this very instant over Heath's charcoaled beans and bullfrog stew. A day or two more of that and Nick'll hogtie Heath to his horse just to get him back to Silas's cooking. You wait and see."

"I wouldn't have to wait and see anything if you hadn't pushed Heath into running away!" Audra's chin trembled as she turned wet, accusing eyes on the only two remaining members of her family at the table. "This is your fault, Jarrod, and yours too, Mother. You both should have fired Mr. Bentell the very second Heath told you his real name. And Nick is just as responsible as you both are except at least he's _trying_ to undo the damage by bringing Heath home. What are either of you doing to set things right? Nothing! _Nothing_!"

"Audra—"

_"I hate this!"_

As Audra sobbed her way from the table and Jarrod rose to follow her, Victoria ordered her firstborn to remain in his seat.

"No, Jarrod. I'll talk to her. I'll make her see that we were right to handle things as we did."

Jarrod didn't reply. He looked at Audra's untouched dinner as well as their mother's, the contents of which had been rearranged more than eaten. Then he sat back down and studied his own plate. Only half his supper was gone and even that had been a struggle. If the Bentells had remained as houseguests, he would have forced himself to eat as though nothing at all was wrong, but thankfully Matthew and Lucinda had been sensitive and tactful enough to insist upon staying in town until Heath's and Nick's return.

When that would be, Jarrod too wished he knew.

He also wished Nick would wire them with an update and a location, but more even than that, he wished he had simply gone with Nick when the trail was fresh. Far more worried than Audra now, Jarrod propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, his troubled gaze fixed on the empty chairs to his right.

_Come back soon, Brother Heath. Let Nick bring you home…_


	5. Chapter 5 - The Surrender

It was still a good two hours before the sun was due to peep over the horizon in Merced, but Heath didn't let that stop him. With his boots in one hand, his bedroll tucked his left arm, and his gunbelt and saddlebags slung over the opposite shoulder, he peered one last time around his darkened hotel room to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything, then tiptoed to the door and slipped out into the hallway. He listened at the door of the room opposite to hear for a moment if Nick was stirring within, but all was quiet.

Good.

Still in his stockinged feet, he took the front stairs to the deserted lobby and paused at the empty front desk but only long enough to leave his room key behind then deposit two silver dollars. It wasn't until he was fully outside that he stopped to slip on his boots and buckle his gunbelt, and then he really didn't tarry. He took the back alleys straight to the livery, eased past the heavy wooden doors, then pushed the right one wide open. After that he strode to his horse.

Like Coco in the oversized stall one up from his, the Modoc was wide awake – but more than that, he was fully saddled, well-fed and ready to go, both horses were. On high alert now, Heath's jaw pulsed as he turned in a slow circle, but before he could spot whom he was looking for, Nick stepped casually out of the shadows with his arms crossed over his chest and his expression perfectly sober.

"Trying to sneak out on me again, huh? Not quite the first rattle outta the box lately, are you, boy?"

Heath banged his fist into the closest stall. "Damn it, Nick, are you ever gonna shake loose and go back to the ranch?"

"Nope."

"Things could be goin' to blazes back there!"

"Our foreman can handle most things."

"Mack isn't a Barkley!"

"No, but Jarrod's there if he needs another pair of hands. He's stepped up before."

"How does that help? Jarrod's a lawyer; he's not a rancher!"

Nick dropped his arms at last and marched over to his sibling, deliberately invading his personal space. He punctuated his next words with a hard finger in Heath's chest." That's right, Brother, he isn't. You and I are the ranchers in the family, yet here we are movin' around like hornets in a bonnet when we _should_ be back home taking care of business. Doesn't seem right, now does it?"

Not much caring for Nick's intimidating stance, Heath shoved him away rather than retreat. _"Then go home, Nick. You're free to leave anytime, so why the hell don't you?"_

Abruptly, Nick's dimples peeped through as a wicked grin spread across his face. "Not a chance." Well aware that Heath was now fuming behind his back, Nick strolled casually over to Coco, mounted up, then leaned forward in the saddle, still smiling wide as can be. "Where to today?"

Heath didn't reply. He stomped over to the Modoc and secured his bedroll behind the cantle. The moment that was done, he snatched the reins from where they were trailing the dusty floor then leapt aboard his horse in one fluid motion. But almost as soon as he kicked the animal into motion, he reined it to a halt.

_What was the point?_

One smoldering glance at Nick told him there was none. Unless Heath knocked him unconscious so hard that Big Brother slept for days on end then somehow forgot his mission upon waking, Nick had no plans to return home empty-handed. He wasn't going to cave in the face of Heath's stubborness. Quite the opposite, in fact, if these last twelve days were any indication. Nick had dogged him every step of the way, following him from camp to trail, through town to town and into one hotel or saloon after another, lecturing him, needling him, doing just about every annoying thing he could to get his younger brother to return home. No matter where Heath had tried to disappear to, Nick was soon there, and worse still, he was starting to anticipate Heath's moves. This was twice now that Nick had made it to the livery before Heath could escape. If this kept up, one of them was going to be in major need of the services of someone like Doc Merar ... most likely both of them.

Muttering a string of curse words more foul than he had ever spouted before, Heath squeezed his horse into action, urging him out onto the dark street.

"Well?" Nick called after him, prodding Coco into gear so they could follow. "Where to?"

_"Stockton."_

Nick let out a whoop to rival his best. "WELL, IT'S ABOUT TIME!" he bellowed. He spurred Coco into a trot then leaned over and slapped his scowling brother on the back once he had caught up. "You won't regret this, Heath. I guarantee it."

_"I'd better not, Nick, or I'm gonna bust you one right in the teeth. Now shut up and ride!"_


End file.
